


Learning to Fall

by FrozenMemories, green_tea31, KatieComma, Nevcolleil, Orianess



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Smut, collab fic, smut with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:14:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22927789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrozenMemories/pseuds/FrozenMemories, https://archiveofourown.org/users/green_tea31/pseuds/green_tea31, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieComma/pseuds/KatieComma, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevcolleil/pseuds/Nevcolleil, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orianess/pseuds/Orianess
Summary: Mac and Jack have an adrenaline fuelled hook up after an op... but what does it really mean?
Relationships: Jack Dalton/Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Comments: 92
Kudos: 122





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collaborated Fic. It’s in the 5 Times +1 style... with each author having their own chapter, and then one chapter cowritten by a few together.
> 
> Keep in mind because this was written by several different people, the tenses do change between some chapters.
> 
> The Fic is finished, and we’ll be updating once a week.
> 
> To keep things fun, we’ll list the author of each chapter as they’re posted instead of in advance.
> 
> We had SOOO much fun writing this!!! We hope you guys enjoy it!
> 
> Chapter 1 - KatieComma  
> Chapter 2 - Nevcolleil  
> Chapter 3 - green_tea31  
> Chapter 4 - FrozenMemories  
> Chapter 5 - Orianess, FrozenMemories, green_tea31, KatieComma (Surprise! Collab within a collab!)  
> Chapter 6 - Orianess

The first time it happened, they’d just finished an op in Chicago and were waiting for exfil.

They checked into the hotel just fine. Took a room with two Queen beds. Walked down the hall, calm and casual, just like any other guests, throwing some banter back and forth. But the moment the hotel door closed, Mac’s pulse shot sky high, the leftover adrenaline of the op releasing all at once into his system like a hit of something elicit. His chest heaved with sudden rushed breaths, and he gripped the doorknob tightly in his hand.

When he met Jack’s eyes he could see the same thing happening to his partner across the room; chest rising and falling quickly, like he’d just run down the hall instead of walked. Brown eyes wide.

And just like in the field they seemed to be able to read each other’s minds, and they rushed toward each other, bodies clashing in the middle of the room. 

The first kiss was hard and more like a head butt than anything romantic, but damn it felt as good as it tasted.

Hands were everywhere immediately, ripping at clothing and pulling at buttons. 

Mac tore Jack’s worn-thin t-shirt while tugging it up over his head. It said a lot for Jack’s state of arousal that he didn’t say a thing, but instead slipped Mac’s plaid shirt from his shoulders and attacked Mac’s collarbone with his teeth.

A talented tongue flicked over Mac’s skin and he groaned into the air, grabbing tightly at the back of Jack’s head and pushing his face harder against him. The stubble scraped and scratched in the best possible way.

They stumbled toward the closest bed, Mac leading while Jack mouthed at his neck. Then Mac pulled him back up for another kiss, tongues clashing and breaths shared.

Between kisses Mac got a few words out. “How do you…” More kissing. “Want to…” A groan shared between them. “Do this?”

Jack tackled the button of Mac’s pants and let them crumple around his ankles. “Good god Mac I don’t care one bit,” Jack replied before he licked a wide long path from Mac’s shoulder up to his ear and whispered in a ragged voice: “Top, bottom, backwards, forwards, upside down… I’m in. What do you want man?”

Mac turned into him, licking at his ear before whispering what he thought might be a deal-breaker. “I wanna fuck you Jack,” his voice was so quiet he wasn’t sure if he even spoke aloud until Jack groaned in reply. “Can I... would you let me do that?” He put his hands to Jack’s cheeks, and pulled back to look into his eyes.

Eyes that were almost totally black with excitement. “Yeah. Course.”

They kissed again and Mac wondered if this was just the adrenaline of the mission. Was there something else in it? He didn’t have any time to wonder before he was lost in the slide of Jack’s tongue in his mouth as Jack pushed Mac’s boxers down and took him in hand.

The rough grip of Jack’s palm and fingers, tight and hot and fast made Mac gasp into his mouth, but he didn’t pull away, he leaned into it while he fumbled with Jack’s belt buckle, his normally deft and clever fingers shaking with the effort.

Everything about it was fast and rushed and driven by need, but there was want in it too. Want that Mac hadn’t ever known was there, hiding in the back of his mind. But it was laid bare and he gave into it.

He pulled back from Jack’s mouth. “Stop,” Mac gasped. “God Jack that’s… if you want more you have to stop.”

Jack’s hand immediately pulled away, and he pushed his own pants to the floor before standing back up and wrapping his arms around Mac, gathering their naked bodies together.

Skin against skin set them both on fire again, and their hands roamed and grabbed, their mouths on each other while they bucked against sweaty skin. Mac wasn’t going to last long. The combination of adrenaline, the first time with someone, and the emotional connection with Jack… all these things were putting him so close to the edge he knew it would be quick.

And then Jack grabbed Mac’s ass with both hands and pulled them tight together and Mac’s knees buckled.

They tumbled to the bed together, their mouths and hands still roaming and active, and then Jack rolled onto his back and let Mac settle between his legs. 

Mac wished it was as easy as just letting go and pushing inside, his need required: now, fast, hard. But instead he fumbled a finger to his mouth and pulled just far enough away from Jack to slather it in saliva before slipping it down between their bodies.

“You ready?” Mac gasped against Jack’s lips.

“Yes. Yes. Come on,” Jack’s words came out a slurred mess. “Yes,” he said one more time before he grabbed Mac’s hair hard and pulled their mouths back together.

Mac sank back into that mouth, the wonderful feel of their lips together, opening and closing and sharing air and trading licks and taste. Mac’s free hand fisted the comforter while his other hand teased at Jack between their bodies. He wasted no time and sank the first finger inside.

Jack bucked against him. 

Mac was screwed, there was no way he was going to last long enough to make things good for Jack. And it almost scared him how good he wanted to make Jack feel.

“Oh god!” Jack broke the kiss for a moment to call out into the room.

Their lips met again, saliva and teeth and tongues and moans. Mac couldn’t even tell who was moaning anymore.

He added more saliva to his fingers and slipped two inside. Jack was tight and hot and wonderful, and even that sensation closing around his fingers was almost enough to make him come. 

He should have been slower, and more gentle. Jack gritted his teeth and hissed a little as he broke their kiss.

Mac slipped his fingers out and pushed up on his forearms to look down. “Are you…” he panted out, “ok Jack? I’m sorry if-”

“Fine, I’m fine,” Jack replied, hands grabbing at Mac’s shoulders and trying to pull him back down, his hips thrusting as they sought that hard friction back. “It’s just been a while, but come on already. Again. Do it again Mac.”

Mac didn’t need to be asked twice, wetted his fingers again, and slid them back inside. Jack opened up easily this time, his body relaxing to the sensation. Mac wanted to taste more of Jack, and started licking at his collarbone, and biting hard at the skin of his neck until he reached jawline and licked again, feeling that sandpaper stubble against his tongue.

Mac’s fingers went all the way in and he crooked them, searching for the spot in Jack that would make him go wild, make him come. Try as he might, he couldn’t find it.

“That’s good,” Jack panted into Mac’s ear. “I’m good, let’s go.”

Jack’s hot breath against him, their bodies getting sweaty and moving together, the taste of Jack on his tongue, the feel of Jack around his fingers, almost sent him over the edge.

Instead he stopped thinking.

He slipped his fingers out, lined himself up, and just before he pushed in, Jack’s voice interrupted him.

“Wait, wait,” Jack sounded suddenly desperate. “Stop. Wait!”

Mac’s heart stopped. No, he needed this, wanted it so bad it hurt somewhere deep. And at the worst possible moment, the moment just before they would get what they wanted, Jack was asking to stop?

“It’s not…” Jack struggled for words as he met Mac’s eyes. There was no reluctance there, so Mac was confused. “Hold on. I just…” He pushed Mac over onto his back and rolled on top of him, opting for actions instead of words, it seemed.

Jack slid back down Mac’s body, laying licks and kisses and bites until he was between Mac’s legs. And then he sank his mouth down over Mac, groaning the moment skin hit his tongue.

Mac’s hips bucked without his permission. He fisted the sheets. He writhed. He fucking whined. When had he ever whined before? He couldn’t remember. He yelled Jack’s name into the air. And man, the people in the rooms on either side were getting a show.

Jack slid his mouth up and down a few times, not closing his lips too tightly, not using his tongue too much, seeming to understand just how close Mac was and not trying to finish him off. When he was done and he sat back, he left a significant amount of extra saliva behind.

Jack rolled onto his back, and pulled Mac back on top of him. “There, all ready now,” he grinned.

Mac couldn’t help but grin back as he brought their mouths together. Frantic and desperate still, they hadn’t lost any momentum.

Mac guided himself into Jack’s body, pushing hard and steady against the resistance he met there, waiting for any indication from Jack to stop. There was none.

And the moment he was inside it felt too good. Jack’s body desperately wanted to squeeze the orgasm from Mac, and he was barely an inch or two inside.

Mac took Jack in hand immediately. He needed to get Jack there, because Mac wasn’t going to last long. Jack felt so good in his fingers, hot and impossibly hard and heavy.

He pulled back from their kisses, the effort of everything else stealing the breath from him. He panted against Jack’s rough cheek. And he always told Jack everything, so he was honest. “Oh god Jack, it feels too good,” he choked out. “It’s not gonna last long.”

Jack groaned. “It don’t matter Mac, just… anything… come on.” The words made little sense, but the excitement and lust in Jack’s voice was intoxicating.

Mac pushed his hips forward a little harder, moved his hand faster for Jack. He hit the end of that first rough slide and wanted to cry it felt so good.

He pulled his hips back, sliding slowly out of Jack, wanting to push forward hard and fast but needing Jack to adjust. He refused to cause Jack any pain.

Their cheeks rubbed against each other; they wanted to be close, but needed to breathe, and their stuttered half words and choked breaths spilled against each other.

Mac started to push in a second time, letting himself move a little faster, and almost immediately on that second thrust he felt it building, and almost without warning he came with a shout of Jack’s name against his neck.

Still hard, he let his body go and it thrust in and out of Jack, making the most of his pleasure and the hot, willing body underneath him.

At the change of pace Jack arched his back and yelled Mac’s name, but still didn’t come. His fingers took a firm grip on Mac’s hair as he pushed Mac’s face into his neck.

Mac lapped at the skin there, hoping the sensation would push Jack over the edge. It didn’t. God the stamina of the man, how he was staying so put together, Mac would never understand.

When he couldn’t thrust anymore, and the moment and passion was lost, Mac pulled out and slid down the bed, adding his mouth to the hand that was still stroking Jack. He licked and sucked and pressed Jack into the back of his throat as far as he could. Jack still gripped Mac’s hair tight, suggesting and holding on, but not forcing anything.

It only took a few quick, deep, passes of his mouth before Jack came hard. And Jack tasted good. Not something Mac had ever cared for before, and it wasn’t necessarily the most appetizing taste, but it was Jack and somehow that made it good.

Mac kept going, Jack’s hands still tight in his hair, until that grip pulled Mac up and off and Jack started to choke out a few laughs.

“Too much man,” Jack stuttered. “It’s… god… fucking hell… too much.”

Mac smiled and laughed as he pulled his mouth off. Jack still wouldn’t let go of his hair, and pulled him up the bed to lay on top of him, spent.

They heaved breaths together, the air heavy with misty sweat.

And then suddenly the lust haze was gone and Mac was left, laying against Jack’s hot, wet skin thinking: what in the hell have I done? Fear clenched at him as he wondered what this meant. They’d both needed release and looked to each other, but could they ignore it now? Could they go back to the way things had been?

“You alright hoss?” Jack asked, his voice hoarse from… holy shit… from yelling Mac’s name during orgasm.

Mac gulped, and tried to sound as normal as possible. “Yeah, just…” Just what? Freaking out? Afraid to lose my best friend to something so stupid? “Tired. Been a long day.” Well, there went his honesty with Jack thrown out the window. What else would change?

“You got that right,” Jack replied, as though their normal banter wasn’t out of place when they were lying naked in each other’s arms and Jack was… fuck… Jack had loosened his grip on Mac’s hair and was now stroking it softly… gently, like a lover.

Jack shifted. “Alright dude, I’ve gotta have a shower,” he said, giving Mac’s hair one last pet before he slid out from under his partner and headed for the bathroom without a backward glance.

There was no offer for Mac to join, so maybe Jack didn’t want things to change between them?

Mac listened to the shower run. He didn’t need to imagine what the cascade of water flowing over Jack’s body would look like, he’d seen it before when they’d served together. Instead he just thought about Jack washing away evidence of their sex, the smell of Mac from his body.

Jack came out in a towel shortly after, drying his hair. “Shower’s free,” he announced as though Mac hadn’t been listening and waiting for Jack to emerge.

Mac didn’t say a word as he crawled into the shower, washing away the op, and their intimacy. He stepped out of the shower and looked into the mirror to find rashes covering his cheeks, neck and chest. All the places Jack’s stubble had rubbed against his skin. Oddly, he was glad that the shower hadn’t been able to get rid of everything, and he touched the red patches softly with his fingertips.  
When he came back into the room, Jack was already snoring away in the second bed, the one that wasn’t stained with their sweat and bodily fluids.

Mac wondered: am I supposed to join him in that bed?

Instead he opted for the safe bet, and crawled into the bed they’d lain on less than an hour before pleasuring each other. He lay and looked at the ceiling, smelling their sex and Jack’s sweat all around him and drifted off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go back to normal, until one night...
> 
> Jack and Mac are sitting at the fire pit, everyone else gone home...
> 
> And now there's no post-op adrenaline to blame.

The ‘why’ of the first time it happened wasn’t a total mystery - not to Jack.

He’s been doing this job for a while... It’s not like he’d never ended up at the end of a bad mission getting - or giving - a good, hard fuck from a comrade in arms. Working off all that energy that comes from facing death in the field and living to spite it.

And, okay, so _knowing_ how stress can lead to sex... and where _that_ leads, eventually... Jack had always been careful not to let the opportunity for sex present itself between him and Mac before.

But it’s not like sex with Mac, what that could be like, had never occurred to him.

Mac’s got supermodel good looks, but he’s all sweet - and sometimes even shy - and whether it’s with a bomb or a beaker, he’s always doing something to tweak Jack’s competence kink.

Jack had noticed Mac’s hands before he’d felt them on his own body, had appreciated those long fingers and that strong grip as Mac had worked one miracle or another on missions. He’d had his mind wander from the task at hand to the feel of a firm body pressed against his at times he and Mac had had to duck and cover together in some small space. He’s only human.

Maybe it was only a matter of time before Jack’s best intentions stopped being enough to stop him from making a bad mistake in the form of grabbing those hands he’d appreciated and putting them exactly where Jack would like them... of pressing his lips to that firm body and finding all the places on it that kissing’d drive Mac crazy.

The second time-

Jack didn’t have as much of an explanation for that.

Sure, the set up was there - a late night at Mac’s, a few beers, and everyone else having already gone home. 

Jack even caught himself humming a bit of that song he’d been listening to in the car, on his way over earlier. One of those poppy modern country songs - this one with all-too fitting lyrics for their circumstances.

‘ _-one more ‘whatcha doin’ right now?’ leads to one more trip to my side of town..._ ’ was on Jack’s radio when he parked in Mac’s drive - and ‘ _...one more drink leads to another..._ ’ was vibrating in his throat as he lifted his bottle of beer to his lips, Mac returning to the fire from having seen Bozer and Leanna off. 

From a whole deck full of choices, Mac chose the spot right next to Jack when he took a seat, just another little thing that was starting to add up with all the others to cause a big reaction in Jack. 

Mac’s nearness...the way he’d been sneaking little looks at Jack all night (hell... the way he’d been sneaking little looks at Jack all _week_ )- The way he hadn’t pulled his hand back as fast as he would have before, when their fingers had brushed as he’d handed Jack his last beer.

Altogether, those things were getting to Jack. Making him think the kind of thoughts he’d once prohibited himself from thinking - and that he’d slipped up and indulged that one night after that one mission. _The_ night. The one even the very best of intentions couldn’t seem to keep out of Jack’s head anymore.

Jack leaned back on his side of the bench they were sitting on and stretched the arm not holding his beer out along the back of it, right behind Mac. He widened the sprawl of his legs in front of himself as if getting comfortable, but really to test - to see if Mac’s eyes would follow the movement and how.

Mac didn’t look up from the beer bottle clasped loosely between both his hands, elbows on his knees - but he very _pointedly_ didn’t look. He wasn’t even blinking, and his Adam’s apple bobbed suddenly when Jack moved. Adrenaline fuelled the grin Jack spread across his face just as much as anything.

All these little signs that maybe Mac didn’t regret what he and Jack did as intensely - hadn’t hated the thought of it as immediately - as Jack had imagined were getting to Jack. And Jack’s only ever had one modus operandi for being got to: 

Smile in the face of whatever trouble’s come calling and meet it at the door.

‘ _-you slide up close to me_...’ the memory of that damned song teased in Jack’s brain.

“Hey, now... what’s that look about?” Jack asked, trying to drown out the lyrics and reign himself back in. “That is a level four brood-worthy look, my man.”

“Level four, huh?” Mac was quick to jump on Jack’s offer of banter to break the tension that had risen up between them, smirking over at Jack with a twist of lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Maybe too quick.

Jack held his grin and winked. “‘s not level five til you start disassemblin’ stuff,” he revealed.

But his adrenaline was still pumping. His brain was still sorting through the signs and picking at them. And it didn’t help at all that once Mac had looked up at him he just didn’t look away.

“No brooding allowed when the beer’s this good...” Jack said in the same playful tone, jiggling the bottle in his hand a little. But he leaned towards Mac too - and as close as they were sitting... he didn’t have to lean much to get _too_ close to not be wanting what he couldn’t seem to stop wanting now that he’d slipped up and let himself start wanting it. “...and the company’s this handsome,” he finished, with a more drawn out wink.

Their bodies had practically been touching when Mac had sat down next to him (‘ _-you slide up close to me_ ) and now, with Jack leaning in, they definitely were. Jack could smell Mac beneath the smoke of the fire and the scent of the beer they were both drinking - the clean smell of Mac’s preferred brand of soap, a hint of Mac’s grandfather’s brand of aftershave, which became Mac’s brand of aftershave when the old man taught Mac to shave and has remained ever since. That scent that’s just Mac that Jack can’t describe in any other way and suddenly seemed to have become the most provocative scent Jack could imagine.

Jack was still testing - not even on purpose, just a part of that ‘come at me’ MO of his - and when Mac leaned in even _further_ , eyes fixed on Jack’s and pupils wide, Jack’s mouth went slack, lips parted, in excitement and a little bit of persistent surprise at the results.

“The company’s always this handsome,” Mac said softly, nothing playful about his tone at all, popping off little firecrackers inside Jack’s chest, sparks fizzling all the way down into Jack’s gut.

“See now, you’re just assumin’ I was talking ‘bout you,” Jack licked his lips and teased, just in case. Offering up that last little out. That last moment of sanity, just in case Mac needed it - the way it’d seemed he had in the aftermath of the last time this sort of crazy had overtaken them both. “ _You_ may be just as pretty outsida a nice firelight, but this ol’ mug-”

-obviously looked pretty enough by Mac’s estimation, at least two times counting by then, because before Jack could utter another syllable there was a hand at the base of his neck and Mac’s lips meeting up with his, Mac’s tongue sweeping inside.

So much for sanity, good riddance.

And privy to explanation or _not_ , the second time Jack put his hands on Mac’s body - grabbed him by the hips and tugged him over til Mac was straddling his lap on the bench, somehow making the awkward perch of a tall, athletic man on top of another not-too-short, even stockier man, look almost graceful.

Mac made this noise deep in his throat when Jack moved him, and he bit at Jack’s lips before his hands went to the hem of Jack’s t-shirt.

‘... _take the t-shirts off each other..._ ’ Jack entertained one last line of lyrics before his brain couldn’t focus on anything but the man in his lap. ' _...your hands all over me..._ ’ faded off in Jack’s mind, and his groan was part ‘yes, please’ in response, part reaction to Mac’s clever fingers seeking out all the places on Jack’s body that had driven him crazy being touched before.

‘ _Then we walk right into one more ‘here we go again’..._ ’ had played on Jack’s radio earlier... And now they were going again - stripping off one another’s t-shirts, nipping at one another’s necks and collarbones, fumbling through belts and buttons and zippers. 

Mac’s quiet, punched-out breaths and occasional groans were stroking Jack onward just as certainly as the the shaky but decisive hand Mac pushed into Jack’s jeans, squeezing him when Jack moaned loudly into their kiss.

“Y-you...” stuttered out of Jack even before _he_ knew what he was saying. “I want inside you this time, Angus,” Jack spoke against and into Mac’s parted lips, in a voice ground to bare bones by arousal, before chasing the words with his tongue. His hands were on Mac’s ass and he kneaded the firm flesh at his fingertips, like if he could just wish away the rest of their clothes and prep Mac with a thought, he’d do it, spread Mac right there in his lap and plunge in.

Mac shuddered hard enough he had to shift his weight to not shake right off of Jack’s lap. His loose grip in Jack’s hair with one hand, and around Jack’s cock with the other, tightened, and Jack moaned again, though not loudly enough to drown out the sound of Mac’s rough cursing and soft little, “Yes, Jack. Fuck, yes.”

Jack’s heart rabbited, only to stutter when Mac suddenly went tense and withdrew his hand from Jack’s jeans.

“Not- but not here,” Mac said plainly, smacking a few more kisses on Jack’s lips, as if in apology, as he crawled off of Jack’s lap. “The neighbors are home this weekend,” Mac said, nodding slightly in the direction of the home behind and just below Mac’s on the hillside - like if the neighbors _weren’t_ around to see - or, from this angle and distance, more likely to _hear_ \- them, he’d let Jack fuck him right there on the deck, for God and all of nature to witness.

“Okay,” Jack said dumbly, while his brain rebooted.

Mac grinned. He reached a hand out to Jack.

Then Jack’s blown mind went back on-line and. 

And there were no more stops and restarts after that.

Afterwards, Jack wouldn’t be able to look back and remember clearly the next fifteen or so minutes with any real precision.

The stumble through Mac’s house, lips attached... bodies bumping this or that a time or two - would just be a blur, like moments stolen from a dream. When Jack got a little ahead of either of them halfway down Mac’s hallway, shrugging down jeans and shorts too hard, so that they fell to Jack’s ankles before he was done needing his feet free to walk the rest of the way to the bedroom, the two of them laughed as much as they kissed, twin tinges of nervousness and maybe a little hysteria drawing out the length and the level of their amusement at the gaffe. 

But even that break from the otherwise strangely serious, borderline desperate, tone of their encounter would fade a little in Jack’s recollection after the adrenaline ebbed. He wouldn’t remember, for example, when the laughter stopped and the panting started up again, around the slippery sound of their mouths meeting and separating as they tried - and mostly failed - to breathe between assault-like kisses.

He wouldn’t remember how Mac went from bending to help Jack pull his pants back up to blowing him there in the hallway, while Jack moaned and groaned his heart out, and eventually had to fist his hands in Mac’s hair and hold him back from ending Jack’s end of things all too soon.

The way Mac moaned and shuddered when Jack pulled his hair would stay with Jack. So would that first slick slide of Jack’s finger into Mac’s body, once they were finally fully naked and stretched out on Mac’s bed. Not to mention the moment Jack’s cock first breached the tight, warm - now wet and reasonably well-stretched - hole he’d just prepped for himself as Mac laid there, open for him, and begged Jack, “ _Enough_. God, Jack.... I swear to God, that’s enough. _Come on_...”

When Jack started thrusting into Mac with real purpose, face buried in the curve of sweat-damp neck into shoulder, feeling Mac’s racing pulse beneath his lips and listening to Mac cry out in release too close to his ear and yet exactly where Jack wanted him...

Jack swears, later, that that damned song came back to him - one line in particular echoing in his brain like a warning signal or a threat. For weeks - months - he wouldn’t remember that night without remembering the lyrics:

“ _I tell myself I’m not in love... but one more time is not enough..._ ”

And if there’s any explanation for why a second time became _third_ time... It’s that.

One more time with Mac was _not_ enough.

Not for Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song lyrics in this chapter from Stay a Little Longer by Brothers Osborne


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another mission and some C4 gone awry push Mac and Jack back into each other's arms.

The next month passed in a haze of back-to-back missions and too little sleep. Every night, Mac went to sleep alone, and every morning, he woke up, sweat-drenched and hard, pre-come wet on his stomach, still chasing the remnants of the inevitable dream where his brain seemed determined to make him relive his encounters with Jack as often as possible.

Jerking off didn’t help, the purely physical act a poor substitute for the memories of Jack’s fingers on his skin, Jack’s mouth on his, Jack’s cock…well. It didn’t help.

Mac still wasn’t entirely sure what kind of madness had led to their first time anyway, except, that wasn’t quite true either. He’d initially blamed the adrenaline, still high from their op, they’d simply sought some kind of physical release with the nearest warm, human body. But then that second encounter had followed, and Mac couldn’t deny the truth any longer, at least not to himself.

He’d wanted Jack for a lot longer than that, wanted those gun-calloused hands on his skin, and those whiskey-brown eyes focused entirely on him.

It couldn’t happen again. Mac knew that, had tried to hammer it into his brain whenever it decided that he needed to stare at his partner for too long while Jack was busy swallowing something, or touching a weapon, taking down an enemy, doing…anything really.

Jack’s friendship was important to Mac, integral to his very being if he was honest with himself. Riley and Bozer liked to joke about their codependency, but if he thought about it for too long, it began feeling like an entirely too uncomfortable truth.

Jack had burrowed his way into Mac’s life too deeply, entwined himself with Mac’s life in a way that would make it impossible for Mac to pry him loose again without losing a significant part of himself in the process.

Every time he so much as thought about letting go of Jack, he felt an almost overwhelming wave of panic rising in his chest, like he couldn’t even breathe properly.

Needless to say, he didn’t think about it very often.

Mac just had to remind himself that their friendship was too important to ruin over a few meaningless physical encounters. They still hadn’t even talked about it, not really. He and Jack weren’t great at talking about emotional things anyway, and they’d kind of avoided mentioning this particular elephant in the room with the fervour of two long-term friends who held regular contests trying to outstubborn each other, something they never talked about either.

Mac just had to…continue not to mention it and they’d be fine.

It wasn't like he didn’t have the necessary self-control to avoid sleeping with Jack again, he wasn’t a goddamn teenager anymore.

They’d be fine. 

...

Mac’s resolve not to fall into bed with his partner again blew up in a spectacular combination of bad decisions and C-4 exactly one month and one day after he’d practically fallen into Jack’s lap by the fire pit, unable to resist that something that always seemed to draw him towards Jack these days. That evening was burned into Mac’s memory, the images playing on a nearly nightly repeat whenever he closed his eyes.

Needless to say, he hadn’t been getting much sleep lately.

They were crouched behind a crudely made barrier in an abandoned warehouse, and Mac had seen way too many of those since becoming a spy, with the bad guys of the week trying their hardest to turn them into Swiss cheese. Jack had that particular look on his face, somewhere between I’m out of ammo and we’re going to die that told Mac he had better hurry up or Jack would do something crazy and self-sacrificing to protect Mac.

“Mac-“ Jack’s voice sounded strained over the staccato of gunfire around them. Mac risked a look towards his partner, temporarily taking his attention off the – very crude – explosive device he’d been trying to put together before Jack ran out of ammunition.

Jack held up his gun. “Don’t wanna sound impatient or anything…”

Mac answered with a grin, more a grimace really, and slid the last wire into place. If he hadn’t botched the job completely they should be able to distract the guys shooting at them long enough to escape.

That’s when the front half of the warehouse blew up with a deafening sound.

The thing about C-4 is this: as far as explosives go, it’s insidious in its stability. It’s a metastable explosive, meaning it can’t be detonated by most physical shocks – it needs a shockwave, a detonator to explode.

He’d come to appreciate the irony of that later – the fact that the description also served as a pretty appropriate metaphor for his and Jack’s relationship – much later, long after the debris had been cleaned up – both literally and metaphorically.

He woke up with Jack’s face hovering above him, worried eyes frantically scanning his body for injuries aside from the obvious scratches and abrasions. Jack was talking to him, screaming really, but Mac couldn’t understand a word, and, come to think of it, Jack probably couldn’t hear anything either. His partner’s hands framed his face, a silent question in his eyes. Mac took a moment to be grateful for the fact that this was still theirs, that they could still understand each other without a word, that they hadn’t lost this while carelessly toying with their eight-year partnership, before nodding.

I’m okay.

Jack’s expression softened and he smiled before hoisting Mac up, helping him limp out of the warehouse. Whoever had been shooting at them was either dead now or had rabbited after the explosion, and Mac, used to much more gruesome displays, couldn’t take his eyes off the bodies left behind. If he’d been just a little quicker, if he’d remembered the C-4 in time…

Some of those people might have still been alive.

Jack’s arm tightened around him when he stumbled over a piece of debris, at Mac’s side, where he always was, keeping watch, keeping him steady. Mac looked towards the ground and kept himself from saying the one thing he couldn’t without risking everything he’d come to rely on since meeting Jack.

I love you.

…

“This wasn’t your fault, hoss,” was the first thing Jack said to him after coming out of the bathroom. They’d managed to find an anonymous motel to hole up in until exfil would come for them in the morning. Jack had let him have the first shower, but Mac hadn’t managed to do much more than towel dry his hair and pull on his jeans again, going commando because those boxers needed a thorough cleaning after the day they’d had, possibly a liberal application of chemicals as well.

Mac swallowed, throat dry. “I know that,” he said, unable to convince even himself of the sincerity of his statement. Jack crouched down in front of him and put his hands over Mac’s.

“Do you?” Jack asked. He smiled at Mac then, a crooked thing, one corner of his mouth slightly raised, but it transformed his expression from something undefinable to the one Mac was most familiar with, caught between perpetual amusement and constant worry for Mac’s wellbeing.

Mac leaned forward until he could press his forehead against Jack’s. He closed his eyes.

“Jack I-“

Jack’s hand came up, gently carding through his hair.

Mac opened his eyes again and later he wouldn’t quite remember if he’d made a conscious decision to let it happen, but he offered no resistance as Jack gently pressed him back into the sheets, his partner’s naked body covering him from head to toe, still damp skin sticky against his own. 

Why shouldn’t he reach for that comfort, if Jack was offering? Mac may have wanted so much more from their relationship, but right now, Jack was offering safety, a haven from the nightmares that would surely find him if he went to sleep alone.

Jack always told him he needed to be a little more selfish from time to time.

So he offered himself, for whatever Jack wanted to give him, content to just let it happen for once. They’d come together with adrenaline burning in their veins, and they’d fallen into bed with the memory of their first encounter still nipping at their heels, desperate for something Mac still couldn’t name. This time, Mac was content to let Jack take care of him.

“Hey, you with me?” Jack said, whispered really, mouth hovering over Mac’s. He arched up to close the gap between their faces and groaned as Jack’s lips set to make him crazy. There were hands at the waistband of his jeans, gripping at the skin and pushing them down. Mac pushed his hands into the too short hair, unable to find a decent grip. Spit-wet lips found a nipple and closed around it, gently tugging at the flesh. He barely noticed when Jack pulled his jeans off the rest of the way and let them drop somewhere next to the bed.

“You are,” Jack said while his lips traced the line of hair on Mac’s stomach down to his aching cock, standing rigid and already glistening with precome, “absolutely fucking beautiful,” right before wrapping his lips around the flesh, mouth coming down nearly to Mac’s pubic hair.

Mac may have screamed a little then, hands clenching in the sheets. Jack hummed, obviously quite content to deep throat Mac, while his hands kneaded Mac’s backside and generally touched every bit of skin they could reach.

Mac whimpered, and if he hadn’t been nearly out of his mind with arousal and need at that point, he would have scowled at the self-satisfied expression on his partner’s face.

Jack let go, a last lick from root to tip and Mac’s cock flopped back against his stomach. He grabbed Jack’s shoulders and pulled him up, desperate to kiss him again, if only so he didn’t have to look at the expression in Jack’s eyes right then, those gentle, whiskey-brown eyes soft with an emotion that Mac could have almost convinced himself was love if he didn’t think about it too hard.

“How are we gonna do this then?” Jack asked against his lips. “I’m good either way,” he added, shrugging. Mac raised his legs on either side of Jack’s body and used one of the various dirty moves his partner had taught him on the training mats over the years to roll them over.

“I want to ride you,” Mac said, breathless with anticipation.

Jack’s eyes widened and he swallowed heavily. “Yeah – that’s…alright.”

Mac didn’t comment on the less than eloquent response and dropped to the side, fishing for his jeans where Jack had dropped them earlier. He found what he’d been looking for and crawled back over to his partner.

“Scoot up a little.” Jack raised an eyebrow but did as he was told until he was leaning against the headboard. Mac climbed back into his lap and held up the packet of lube he’d retrieved from the back pocket.

He didn’t let himself dwell on the fact that he’d brought lube with him on a mission, that stuff was useful for a lot of things, not just the one they were about to use it for.

“You want to?” Jack snatched the packet before he could finish the question and ripped it open with far more enthusiasm than skill, half of the sticky liquid spilling between their bodies before he could even coat his fingers. Still, it was enough and Mac held his breath when the first finger breached him. Jack prepared him with the same careful attention he put to all important tasks and soon he had three fingers thrusting into Mac.

“Come on,” Mac panted, hand coming up to grab Jack’s arm. “I’m ready, Jack.” 

“Well, hop on then,” Jack said with a predatory grin, fingers withdrawing and leaving him feeling strangely empty. Mac snorted and nearly tipped forward too fast, steadied only by gentle hands on his skin.

“That was terrible,” Mac admonished and scooted forward until he felt Jack’s cock at his entrance. Whatever smartass remark had been at the tip of his partner’s tongue turned into a groan as Mac started to lower himself, sliding down in a steady glide until they were crotch to crotch, bodies pressed together and Mac wasn’t sure anymore where he ended and Jack began. Hands tightened on his waist and he buried his face in Jack’s neck, trying to regulate his breathing at the feel of being connected so closely.

Jack nosed at the skin of his throat, lips gliding over the birthmark, leaving a wet trail behind.

“I’ve got you,” Jack murmured into his skin and Mac was nearly senseless with the intensity of it all. When he was reasonably sure that he wouldn’t spill himself and end this very prematurely as soon as he started to move, Mac tightened his muscles and raised himself up, Jack’s cock slipping out of his body until only the tip was still inside him. He looked up at his partner and pushed down again, keeping his eyes on Jack’s the entire time. Soon he’d found a steady rhythm, bouncing up and down, every slow glide of the cock into his body feeling like he was being branded from the inside.

“God…fuckin’ hell. You’re gonna kill me, Mac,” Jack managed through gritted teeth.

One hand came up and pushed into his hair, gripping the strands tightly. Jack’s other hand wandered to his ass and began kneading the flesh.

“Come on, Mac – move.”

Mac stuttered at the pure need in Jack’s voice and he let himself tip forward until he was pressed against his partner, abandoning his control in favour of burying his face in the sweaty skin of Jack’s throat. He could feel the vibrations as Jack chuckled and then he was seized and rolled over. Hands grabbed a pillow and stuffed it under Mac’s hip for comfort and Jack pressed back into his body, arms coming up next to Mac’s head.

Jack set a punishing rhythm and Mac could do little else than hold on and let the current sweep him over, Jack’s cock and the hand that pushed back into his hair the only sensations left to ground him. Fingers came up to wrap around his flesh, squeezing and pulling at him until Mac could do nothing but surrender to the inevitable. He came over Jack’s hand and his stomach with a choked cry. His partner stuttered and followed him over the edge, shoving into Mac’s body a few more times until he spilled himself deep inside.

He may have passed out a little, feeling gentle hands clean him up with a warm washcloth when he came to his senses again. Jack climbed back into bed, wrapping his arms around Mac and drew the sheets over them both.

When he woke up again the next morning, the bed next to him was empty.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack is hurting and confused and finds himself pulling into Mac's driveway.

It’s still early in the afternoon but the day has already proven to be terribly exhausting.

Gritting his teeth Jack slams his fist against the steering wheel, hard. He’s been driving around too fast for the entire length of Metallica’s _Master of Puppets_ album while his mind is trying to conjure up all the reasons not to drive over to Mac’s. He throws his head back heavily against the headrest as the record starts over, the mellow beginning of _Battery_ slowly crescendoing into more aggressive sounds of electrical guitar riffs and drums.

He can’t shake the images of Carson’s bled out body. He can’t stop blaming himself. Carson’s dead because he chose Mac over the safety of the rest of their men. It’s not like anyone can pin this on him, really. Protecting Mac is his number one priority. It’s his job. TAC is there to have their backs. Still, he can’t help wondering if maybe, maybe he could have prevented it if he had trusted Mac to fend for himself just a moment longer. He has the utmost faith in his partner’s skills but lately his emotions have been clouding a number of decisions. Ever since they’ve breached that last step in their relationship the thought of losing Mac has just become so much more unbearable – unacceptable. And now an agent might be dead because of that.

He’s been cleared by Matty. Logically he knows he’s done nothing wrong. In the end it was a tactical move that he could very reasonably defend. But that doesn’t make losing one of their own any easier. That doesn’t make the pain of watching the mourning wife and daughter any less suffocating.

He cranks up the volume and keeps driving.

What he usually does in situations like these is head straight to Mac’s and pop open a couple of beers until the ache is dulled and he’s remotely ready to talk. Cry about it, scream it out and hurl an empty bottle over the landing of the deck, watch it shatter upon impact on the ground. Then move on.

Usually.

The thing is though, ever since Chicago his head is kind of screwed up and there hasn’t been a great amount of usual in their routines. It should have never happened, Jack keeps reasoning with himself. Not the first time, not the second, not the third. No matter how good it was, how he had secretly longed for it to happen, things are just so different now. Every look, every touch, every carelessly thrown out endearment suddenly weighs so much more and he constantly questions not only Mac’s but also his own intentions.

He’s passing by the intersection that leads to Mac’s, gripping the wheel just that much harder as he stays in the lane that runs straight ahead. Who is he kidding though, in the end the road will always take him to that house in the hills, no matter how many detours he’ll make himself take.

So that's how, half an hour later, he winds up at Mac’s door, in spite of everything. He knocks but pushes in without waiting.

He’s not quiet about his entry; there’s no need to startle Mac out of whatever he is doing.

“Jack?” Mac greets him, a line of grease smeared along his cheek, hair carelessly brushed back by oil stained hands that he’s about to wipe on a pair of worn out jeans. Jack clenches his jaw at the sight and there is absolutely nothing he can say right now, so he acts purely on impulse and does what he told himself he hasn’t come here for. He pushes Mac roughly back into the next available wall and crashes their lips together with force.

Mac doesn’t even question him and he briefly wonders what that means before he gets entirely distracted, overwhelmed by the sweet taste of Mac’s tongue, welcoming his own. Mac’s hands clutch at his waist and pull him further in while he’s already pressed impossibly close into Mac’s willing body, trapping him against the wall. He doesn’t know where to touch first, lets his hands roam all across Mac’s body, up his sides and over his pecs, solid beneath the thin material of his shirt.

He grabs roughly at the sides of Mac’s neck, feeling him swallow not just against his mouth but also under his palms.

Whatever this is it’s turning into a routine he isn’t ready for. Yet he needs it, needs the comfort of knowing Mac will always be here, no matter what. They haven’t talked about the last time, either, which is probably his own damn fault. He’d just gone on, pretending it hadn’t happened and has been carefully steering them away from any notion of intimate conversation ever since. They’ve always had a policy of being honest with each other about basically everything, but this? It’s astonishing how much sex can screw up.

Who can blame him for his weakness though? The way Mac kisses him, the way Mac _fucked_ him, the way they just connect on a level that is beyond anything Jack could ever put into words – he couldn’t help but become addicted and he doesn’t feel like he will ever be able to stop coming back for more.

Mac moans into his mouth as Jack digs his thumbs into his jaw where he can feel his pulse racing.

“Fuck,” he growls as he disentangles himself from their kiss and lets his hands slide down to the front of Mac’s faded jeans. He can feel and see the bulge beneath the zipper and quickly moves to pry it free, sinking to his knees as he does.

His hands move around Mac’s hips and slip inside the back of his jeans, palming the firm muscles of his ass as he works on sliding the denim down his thighs.

He doesn’t care about how tight his own pants have become. He probably should have changed out of his funeral attire but none of that matters now that his face is just inches away from Mac’s straining erection.

Mac’s hands come up to frame his face as he leans in to lick the tip and hears the dull thud of Mac’s head slumping back against the wall. His wince gets muffled by a groan as Jack’s lips close around the head of his cock. He can’t really muster the patience to tease, he just wants to hear those moans get louder and harsher, desperately needs to _feel_.

Both his hands are flanking Mac’s thighs, fingers digging tightly into his ass cheeks as he holds on and sets a steady rhythm.

“Jack! Fuck… Slow down!” Mac pants between strained noises of pleasure but Jack has no intention at all to do so. His desperate need for Mac to come - hard and fast and soon - is probably stronger than Mac’s own. It’s incomprehensible but he doesn’t care about any whats and whys or if his actions are as selfish as they feel. He’s simply grateful that Mac lets him do this without question. He hollows his cheeks and keeps a rapid pace while his fingers are certainly leaving indentations on Mac’s ass from the sheer strength he uses to hold him in place - as if he’d vanish if Jack let go.

“God, Jack, stop! I’m gonna come… I can’t!” Mac sputters breathlessly. It’s difficult to twist his o-shaped lips into a grin but impossible to suppress the urge. Jack feels smug about the desperation he can hear in Mac’s wavering voice.

He hums something along the lines of a negation, slides his tongue along the underside of Mac’s pulsing cock and swirls it around the head before sinking back down.

Mac’s knees buckle against his flanks and Jack presses him a little harder into the wall to steady him.

“Seriously,” Mac slurs, trying to push at Jack’s forehead to slow him down, “’mmm gonna… Jack!”

His muscles tremble beneath Jack’s hands. Jack sucks a few more times, listening for that tell-tale hitch in Mac’s voice before his jaw goes slack and he lets Mac come all over his tongue and down his throat with a shudder and an exhausted groan.

When he feels him slide down the wall he reacts swiftly and seizes his sides to keep him upright.

A pair of arms flings around his shoulders as soon as he stands up. For lack of things to say Jack kisses the spot closest to his lips – the raging pulse point just above the collar of the shirt he didn’t even bother to get Mac out of.

Just seconds later Mac has recovered enough to grab him by the cheeks and draw his head back far enough to reach his lips. Jack’s eyes sting with unshed tears at the gentle nature of Mac’s kiss.

“Damn, Jack. You okay?” He asks, voice still a little raspy.

“Fine,” he croaks out with effort, knowing full well how dangerously close the dam is to breaking if he attempted to say more. Those blue eyes are doubtful but Mac lets it slide. Instead of probing he smirks and reaches for Jack’s fly.

Jack tumbles back and shakes his head, swallowing hard. The taste of Mac is lingering on his tongue and he knows that if he doesn’t pull himself together right here, right now, he never will. If Mac is going to touch him now he’ll spill much more than his spunk.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles and doesn’t even give Mac a chance to process what is going on before he hastily makes his way to the door. Mac is calling after him but with his pants still down he’s incapable of following right behind and by the times he’s covered up and has reached the door Jack has already started the engine and all but speeds down the driveway.

In the rearview mirror he sees the dark smudges on his temples, transferred there moments ago by Mac’s agile hands. Screwing his eyes shut for a second he takes a deep breath and berates himself. He should have never come here in the state he’s in. He knew that. But he wouldn’t be Jack Dalton if he didn’t continually find new ways of fucking up relationships with the people the loves.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last time, things happened fast and then it was over. 
> 
> Mac’s not letting Jack go that easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Owing to what's going on in the world, we have conferred and decided to speed up our posting schedule for this DRAMATICALLY. So. Part 5 today, and the plus 1 tomorrow.
> 
> We just thought everyone could use a little something extra to read.
> 
> This one was interesting. Because we were short a writer for a 5+1... we opted to cowrite this chapter between a few of us.
> 
> I think we did pretty good! It fits perfectly together. No obvious seams where one passed the torch to the next.

“Are you okay?” Mac asks. He’s been staring out of the plane window for half an hour, wondering if he should say something.

Jack is immersed in his phone and doesn’t meet his eyes. There has been a strange tension around him ever since their last encounter and no matter how much Mac would just like to ignore it, avoid the topic forever, he can’t shake the feeling that something is fundamentally wrong.

“Jack?” He insists but the stubborn son of a gun doesn’t lift his gaze. Finally, with a frustrated growl, Mac rises from his seat opposite him and reaches over to pluck the phone from his hands.

“Hey!” Jack protests, “That’s mine!”

Unfazed by his behavior Mac clutches the device to his chest and gives Jack a hard stare. “I asked you a question.”

Jack looks at him irritably but doesn’t pretend he hadn't heard him before, instead just brusquely mutters, “I’m fine.”

Mac wants to let that stand. He really doesn’t want to ask Jack why a week ago he looked like he was on the verge of crying when he stood up after what Mac has to admit was a rather intense blowjob, why he left Mac standing with his pants down, scrambling out of there the moment Mac tried to touch him.

He really doesn’t need a conversation about whatever it is they’ve been doing for months. He just wants to make sure it’s going to happen again. It’s only that since the last time it happened he feels like something between them has changed significantly. After the first time things were admittedly awkward between them for a bit, but since they did it again and they mutually - quietly - agreed to just let it happen and not talk about it afterward, he thought they were on the same page.

Not really, of course. Jack still doesn’t know that for Mac this whole thing means a lot more than randomly letting off steam, but he’s fine with that. He’ll take what he can get and won’t bother Jack with the unwanted inclusion of feelings. He’ll just… keep this up forever, at least that was his foolish plan. He thought Jack would be okay with that, too.

Jack makes a funny face and holds his hand out. Reluctantly Mac hands him back the phone and shakes his head.

“Okay,” he says, although he feels like he is anything but. Jack has made his point. They’re not going to talk and he’s not going to push.

The flight however is long and Mac is itching in his seat.

Jack keeps ignoring him in favor of swiping through some dating app or whatever it is he’s busying himself with.

Eventually Mac caves in.

“Are we…” He pauses, looks at Jack, “are we okay?”

Jack furrows his brows and tries to hide his eyes.

Mac bites his lip.

Finally Jack looks up and gives him a guarded smile. “Sure we are, hoss.”

His gaze is traveling up and down Jack’s body, he notices a twitch in his knee.

“Jack?”

“Listen Mac, I don’t know what-” Jack’s voice is resigned and interrupted by a sudden shudder in the plane as it tilts to the side for a moment. Jack drops his phone in favour of gripping the armrests of his seat.

“Slight turbulence,” the pilot says over the intercom as the plane is righted. “Nothing to worry about.”

Mac wonders if it was some kind of bizarre divine intervention that cut Jack’s sentence short.

Jack sighs and doesn’t try to pick up his words again. Instead he looks around his lap; looking for his phone probably. Mac leans over and checks the floor, and sees it in the middle of the aisle. He reaches over to grab it at the same time Jack does, and their hands meet before either of them can get to the phone.

Mac doesn’t think, he can’t anymore, not about this. He’s thought and thought about this thing between them and he’s done analyzing. Instead, he twines his fingers with Jack’s and leans forward for a kiss that is dirty immediately. Mac’s desperate, and he pours his desperation into the kiss, his tongue breaking through Jack’s lips and into his mouth in a rough and demanding way.

His grip on Jack’s hand gets tighter as Jack kisses him back. Mac feels a large callused hand grabbing behind his neck and gripping almost too tight.

Mac backs away, despite the pull from Jack’s hand trying to keep their mouths together. He stands up, and uses their linked fingers to pull Jack toward the back of the plane. “Come on,” Mac’s voice is hoarse with arousal and excitement.

“Yeah,” Jack replies. He whispers the next word, but Mac hears it anyway, even with ears plugged with the altitude. “Always.”

As they make their way toward the bunk at the back of the plane, Jack’s hand finds its way to the small of Mac’s back. It’s warm and comforting and heavy pressing him forward.

Their last encounter was desperate and fast and was all about Jack being in control. This time will be different. This time Mac will be in control, and he plans to keep that control the whole time. The flight doesn’t touch down for hours, and they have all the time in the world for Mac to have his way. To make up for the time they lost last time.

As soon as the bunk room door is closed behind them, they’re on each other with hungry kisses, hands gripping and pulling as they shed their shirts for much needed skin to skin contact. Jack presses Mac against the wall with ferocious nips along the column of his throat, groans bordering on growls as they dig into each with urgency.

Quick to the point or just eager for more, Jack reaches for Mac’s belt but Mac has no intentions of being a passive bystander this time and he intends to be very clear about that. With a quick twist and pull, Mac whirls Jack till his chest is pinned to the wall with an arm twisted firm but loosely behind his back. 

“Mac?” Jack asks softly and Mac grinds himself insistently against Jack’s ass.

“I’m driving.” Mac says simply as he presses a kiss to the shell of Jack’s ear, relishing in the little shudder he feels in response. And he waits for the moment where Jack could push him back, push him off, because Jack could if wanted to, but it never comes. The fact that Jack isn’t retaliating or resisting, makes the excitement in Mac burn hotter and he’s going to take his time enjoying every second.

“Stay.” Mac whispers against his ear, reaching around to undo Jack’s jeans and slide them to his ankles. It doesn’t escape Mac’s notice that Jack’s thighs have goosebumps when he ghosts over them on the way back up. “You good?” He asks, carefully sliding one hand up to massage at Jack’s chest and the other to grip the twitching hardness between his legs.

“Mac...” Jack groans, hips jerking forward into Mac’s hand. Mac strokes him gently and slowly and smiles against his neck, inhales the warm scent that is distinctly Jack.

“Yeah?”

Jack turns his head just enough that Mac can see a glimpse of his near pained expression but the fire in those dark eyes is pleadingly begging for more. He doesn’t need to hear the words to know that Jack wants more. 

“Supplies?” Mac whispers, maintaining the easy pace of his strokes, punctuating his pauses with a firm grind of his hips. Jack sighs and the sound is both strained and relieved.

“Fresh out.”

Mac hums in response. “Guess we’ll have to improvise then.” He tugs Jack backward after he steps out of his pants and guides him to the cot with a light push. “Belly down for me.”

The look Jack flashes him for that is skeptical and curious in equal measure but Mac rarely gets to genuinely surprise him these days and he’s not giving anything away just yet.

“You trust me, right?” Mac asks quietly and Jack’s face softens into an expression he can’t quite name.

“Always.” He answers, voice gone gravel-rough as he flattens himself to the bed and it’s the exact answer Mac was hoping for. 

Mac finishes stripping from his clothing and straddles Jack’s bare legs, letting his hands wander over the taut muscles in Jack’s back, thighs and ass. He takes his time feeling the strength there that is so easily accepting his touch with no hesitation, admiring the privilege that it is, even if it is a mutually beneficial privilege. The defined line of Jack’s shoulders and spine invite his lips and he can think of no better place to start.

Mac starts with the bullet wound scar at the top of Jack’s right shoulder and crisscrosses his way down with wet feather-light kisses, playing connect the dots from scar to scar. So many kisses for so many scars, so many earned in the name of watching Mac’s back. Jack is fully relaxed by the time he reaches his intended target and before he can question what Mac’s up to, Mac drops in between his cheeks with a long hot stripe of his tongue down the center.

“Mac, what-!?” Jack yelps and shifts to move up but Mac doesn’t plan to let him get away so quickly. He plants a hand at the center of Jack’s spine and presses down, a silent request to stay. To Mac’s wonder, he doesn’t fight to move away again so he allows himself to work his tongue in deeper and longer on each pass till he finally needs to take a breath. 

When he has air to speak, Mac asks, “this okay?”

Jack is quiet for such a long moment, Mac’s wondering if he crossed the wrong line, a final line, but eventually he nods his head from where it’s pillowed on his arms. “Yeah, s’just... weird.”

Mac leans out a bit to attempt to see Jack’s face which is still hidden mostly away from him in the shadows of the room. “Weird bad?”

Another long pause and Jack turns around to meet his eyes and the darkness there looks like hot coals. “No... keep going.”

Mac’s gut flips in excitement and he’s never been so ready for more, or so turned on in his life. He dives in again, using more enthusiasm for his task now that he knows Jack’s not about to turn around and deck him, and focuses on finding a rhythm to maintain. The sounds of Jack’s low groans and whines, each shift of his hips, Mac relishes them all and uses them as a guideline to what they both want most. 

Mac bears down and licks with as much pressure as he can manage, circling and pressing and diving into his task, surprised at himself that he’s getting so worked up with just prep. And his mind is already wandering to the next step, the need to be inside, the drive to snap his hips and chase those sounds out of Jack like he did before. When he adds the first finger Jack swears a blue streak and writhes furiously under him but at no point does it ever sound unwanted. 

It goes on that way, on and on. Jack just taking what Mac gives him with his mouth and his hand. He’s stretched wide and sloppy wet when Jack’s moans and nearly breathless whimpers start turning into soft calls of his name.

“Mac... Mac please...” he moans and when Mac looks up those perfect dark eyes are looking back at him and Jack looks a few breaths shy of crazy. “Please, you gotta... I need you. I need you in me... Mac...”

Mac won’t keep him waiting, god knows, he can’t wait anymore himself.

He takes a deep breath and moves upwards, pressing a kiss between Jack’s shoulders. Jack is trembling under him and Mac takes himself in hand and pushes into that wet heat with a groan, pressing his face into Jack’s shoulder. When he bottoms out, Jack takes his hand and entwines their fingers.

“Fuck, Mac…s’ good,” he says, voice barely more than a slur. Mac nearly chokes on his next breath, because he’s overwhelmed with sensation, to the point where he’s not sure where he begins and Jack ends anymore.

“If ya don’t start moving soon. I’m gonna have to protest,” Jack says, breathless, but slightly more comprehensible than before. Mac withdraws a little, nearly done in by Jack’s answering groan, muscles tightening around where he’s buried deep inside the heat of the body beneath him.

He thrusts back in and Jack meets him halfway, perspiration making their bodies sticky, the sound of flesh meeting flesh almost obscene in the eerie quiet of the plane. Mac takes a moment to appreciate the excellent soundproofing, otherwise they’d be explaining themselves to the pilot right about now, before he loses himself in the steady rhythm of thrust and withdrawal. Jack’s voice is a constant stream of encouragement, “Come on, baby. Harder. I’m not gonna break…yeah, that’s it,” voice strained with arousal. Mac tries to keep his pace steady, but the combination of Jack’s voice and the utter trust his partner puts in him, the way Jack’s body moves with his own, meets each of Mac’s thrusts with equal enthusiasm, has Mac close to orgasm a lot sooner than he’d anticipated.

“Jack-“ Mac manages to choke out. He stops his movements, or tries to at least, but Jack doesn’t let him. He tightens his hand around Mac’s fingers and deliberately tightens his internal muscles, turning his head until Mac can see his eyes, pupils dilated to the point where the warm brown of the iris is almost invisible. “Mac…please. I want to feel you.”

And Mac can’t possibly deny him, not when this man is all that matters right now and, if he’s honest with himself, matters a lot more than Mac’s ever allowed himself to voice out loud.

He starts moving again, and where his thrusts had been steady and even before, he starts chasing his release, burying himself as deeply inside Jack as he can with each movement. It doesn’t take long for his rhythm to quicken to the point where he’s about to tumble over the edge. He tries to slow down, to make sure Jack will be right behind him, but it’s entirely possible that Jack’s stamina is a lot better than his, because it only takes a few more thrusts and he comes with a long drawn-out groan.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Mac says when he realizes that Jack is definitely still hard and lets his softening cock slip out of his partner’s body. He presses a damp kiss into the skin of Jack’s neck. “Turn around.”

Jack does, his face adorably confused. “Whatcha apologizing for?” He asks. Mac rolls his eyes because that’s a stupid question and scoots down until he’s eye to eye with Jack’s straining cock, bobbing slightly against his cheek. He grins wickedly, delighting in the look of arousal on Jack’s face and closes his lips around the burning flesh. Jack throws his head back into the pillow, body arching up into Mac’s mouth. He moves his head down until his nose is almost buried in Jack’s pubic hair, swallowing around the impressive girth to the point where he has to admit defeat, withdrawing until just the head is still in his mouth. He repeats the movement again and again, setting up a steady rhythm that has Jack fighting not to simply abandon his restraint and start thrusting if the expression on his face is any indication.

The thing is…

Mac doesn’t want Jack to hold back. He’s still riding the high from earlier, from having Jack trust him so unequivocally, and while he doesn’t often take charge like this, he wants to see Jack let himself go, wants to feel the unrestrained power of the body beneath him, knowing that he can take it – knowing that it’s Mac who reduced Jack to this quivering mess of arousal. Jack, who is so very dangerous and who has turned keeping a tight hold of his reactions into a delicate art form, pretending to be much more harmless than he really is. Mac wants to take charge of all that power and hold it in the palm of his hand, secure in the knowledge that Jack trusts him that much.

He grabs one of Jack’s hands and puts it into his hair, moving his lips down on Jack’s shaft in a deliberately slow movement, all the while never looking away from his partner’s eyes.

He can see the moment Jack decides to give in – the moment he decides to fully put himself into Mac’s hands, and that last bit of surrender is followed by Jack’s eyes rolling back in his head, his body thrusting up almost involuntarily. Mac relaxes his throat while Jack builds a steady rhythm. He shifts until he can trace his fingers over the slick skin leading to the opening of Jack’s body, using the remnants of his earlier orgasm to push one finger through the still tight ring. Locating the spot that makes Jack curse is not an easy feat with his mouth around the straining cock, but Mac is nothing if not ambidextrous. He adds another finger and knows it won’t be much longer when the fingers in his hair tighten until the grip is nearly too painful, or maybe just painful enough, because he feels his own flesh twitching again, ignoring the sensation in order to focus on the expression of complete abandonment on Jack’s face.

He meets Jack’s next thrust, swallowing around his cock, pressing both fingers against that spot deep inside Jack’s body, and his partner holds him there while he floods Mac’s throat with warm, sticky liquid. He flops back into the bed with a groan, hand falling away from Mac’s head, and throws an arm over his eyes.

Mac lets the softening shaft slip out of his mouth and licks his lips. The aftertaste is slightly salty, not exactly pleasant, but the fact that it’s Jack makes all the difference and he chases the last drops with his tongue.

“Dammit, man. You trying to kill me?” Jack says, eyes fixed on Mac’s mouth, and while his body would be more than happy to start again, his mind tells him that they should probably clean up sooner rather than later, because he really doesn’t want to deal with the consequences if they were to be discovered in this kind of compromising position on the Phoenix jet of all places.

Still, right now he’s feeling relaxed and they have at least an hour left until arrival, and Mac always sets an alarm in case he falls asleep on the way home. Since their encounter seems to have dispersed the strange tension around Jack, Mac is comfortable scooting up until he can rest his head on Jack’s shoulder and wrap his arms around the human furnace that is his partner. Clearly, Jack has no objections. Mac dozes off to the feeling of Jack’s fingers gently running through his hair. 

Mac drifts in dreams. Perfect dreams where everything is the way he wants it to be and he’s always warmed by the body heat of another. Glimpses of things he wants so desperately: someone else’s most precious possessions slowly moving into his house and taking up residence, until that person joins them permanently. Soft laughter against his cheek. Hands linked together while they kick back and watch the stars. Three words that make touching into something more than just skin against skin, more than just chasing comfort and pleasure in another body.

“Mac,” the voice is soft and comforting, pulled right from his dreams. He wonders if he’s in his bed. Maybe they’re waking up together.

A hand grips his shoulder, shaking him lightly, and Jack’s voice comes in clearer: “Mac, come on dude, time to wake up.”

Mac opens his eyes, and the world is blurry as he comes up from sleep. He blinks a few times and Jack comes into view. As soon as Mac’s eyes are open, Jack steps back. Because he’s not laying with Mac anymore, and he’s… wow, ok, he’s already dressed while Mac is still laying in the little bed, naked by himself.

Jack turns away to give Mac privacy, as though they don’t know the most intimate parts of each other pretty well by now. It hurts somehow. Jack wants to see him during… one of their little trysts, but won’t look at him after?

Mac sits up, and a scratchy, barely used blanket falls from his shoulder to pool around his waist. Everything feels sharp and wrong; on its slide down, the blanket chafes at his skin in all the places that Jack’s scruff had left rashes behind; the bed under him is hard and makes him feel achy; he feels a headache coming on.

“Time to go Mac,” Jack says, walking to the door. “Landing in about fifteen.” He doesn’t even look back over his shoulder as he leaves the room.

Mac feels… dirty and used. His body is still a mess, he’s suddenly cold, and he doesn’t want to put his mission-soiled clothes back on. 

But he does exactly that.

And when he goes back up to the front of the plane, they sit across from each other like nothing even happened.

And the worst part is: Mac still wants more.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mess Mac and Jack have made of their personal lives comes to a head when Mac overhears a conversation that changes everything.

It’s nearly dawn when Mac wakes up and realizes he’s alone. The bed is cold beside him, Jack’s stuff is gone and it leaves an awful bitter ache in his chest.

This has been a regular occurrence, too regular. It’s bordering on becoming a routine and a habit that’s going to need some rehab to kick. Jack calls, they mess around, sunrise comes along and he’s gone, usually long before Mac wakes up. Mac had once caught him in the act of leaving and the way Jack wouldn’t look him in the eye when he lied as he said he had to go...

Well, to be honest, this whole situation is starting to mess with his head.

Because yeah, sure, Mac’s not the most emotionally expressive guy on the planet, but the longer this goes on, the more it feels like a bad soap opera with unrequited love and unlikely bedfellows. It’s messy and worse still Mac has no clue how to handle the strange disconnect it’s put between them.

A part of him desperately wants to lay it all out on the table. He wants to know if these little midnight meetups are meaningless; if there’s a reason Jack keeps coming back to Mac or if it’s all just a matter of convenience. He wants to know if he’s just a willing hole or if Jack is choosing him because he wants something more between them. In all the years that they’ve been partners, Jack never seemed like the type of guy to use people just to soothe primal needs but the longer this "love them leave them" routine continues the harder it is to convince himself that that’s not what’s happening here.

It’s a complicated equation that Mac can’t possibly solve because he doesn’t have all the variables. Mostly because the variables (stupid human emotion) themselves are unpredictable at best.

Mac does the only thing he knows will help when he has a problem he can’t solve and he can’t go to Jack. He goes to work.

It’s too cold for outdoor exercise so he drives in and goes to the Phoenix gym. He debates hopping on a treadmill, losing himself to the steady pounding of his feet on the machine, but he takes one look at it and knows he’s too worked up for that. Mac heads for the punching bag and sets himself into working the sandbag over with a series of repetitive combos, not looking to do anything other than beat something with his flaring emotions.

When his hands ache and his breath runs short he heads for the locker room to wash up before his call time. He cleans up quickly, an efficient fast shower that he spends resolutely ignoring the bruises on his skin from his and Jack’s most recent night together. Once he’s done, he dresses and plans to head for the lab but as soon as he turns the corner he notices the war room just ahead of him isn’t empty. Three silhouettes stand within, one of them clearly Matty, their voices muffled by the glass walls and identities blocked from view by the privacy distortion. 

He checks his phone to ensure he didn’t miss an earlier summons and heads closer when he doesn’t see one.

He doesn’t intend to eavesdrop but he stands close enough to the door to hear Jack inside along with a male voice he doesn’t recognize. Jack’s voice raises briefly, a sharp angry tone and both the male voice and Matty say something Mac can’t understand because of the barrier.

If Jack is getting dressed down for something that involves Matty, Mac feels he needs to know what. It could be something minor or something serious but if he had to guess by Jack’s tone, it’s the latter. Mac sneaks into the room next door and finds an access panel; using some skills he's picked up from Riley he gets access to the war room's audio. He can't get video, but he doesn't really need it.

“-is dead. I put three rounds in his chest in Kuwait.” Jack growls and the other man sighs.

“I’m sorry to say, Agent Dalton, but it didn’t take. He’s out there wreaking havoc as we speak.”

“And why bring this to us?” Matty’s cool voice interrupts whatever expletive was about to fall from Jack’s lips. “Certainly this is more suited to a different branch. CIA perhaps or FBI?”

“Mathilda, you know as well as I do we rarely get explanations for our orders and-“

“Alright that’s enough!” Jack snaps and the room is hushed. “We get it, you’re a pen pusher, okay? You got told to get my attention and I’m listenin’. Tell me the terms and I’ll tell you if I accept. Don’t bullshit me, now is not the time.”

The other man sighs and the soft flapping sound of a file hitting the table punctures the air. “I’ve been told by members of top brass that they are requesting you to lead a strike team of your choosing to bring this man down. Dead or alive, preferably dead. We have candidates chosen or you can recruit if you see fit. All that matters is this man being stopped before he does any further damage. I understand that you’ll need time to decide-“

“I’ll do it.” Jack’s cold voice answers and Matty’s soft inhale is audible in the quiet that follows.

“Jack you don’t-“

“Matty please.” Jack says firmly, no room for argument. “This is my responsibility. This guy is still out there because I didn’t do my job, it’s only fair that I make that right. When do I need to be ready by?”

“Forty eight hours. We can have you on the transport and briefed as soon as you’re ready.”

There’s a beat of quiet and Mac strains to hear anything at all before the male voice adds, “it’s been brought to our attention that you and Agent MacGyver are a... package deal. We’ve made arrangements for him to be brought in, assuming Director Weber will allow it?”

“Of course I-“ Matty begins to say but Jack cuts her off with a short answer.

“No.”

“I beg pardon, sir?” 

“I will not be asking for agent MacGyver to be included in this task force.” Jack clarifies coolly, “I will not be able to afford any distractions in the field. Agent MacGyver is a pacifist and won’t be suited for a strike team.”

“Jack...?” Matty asks softly and the beat of silence that follows is tense.

“I have my reasons Matty.” Jack says quietly, voice firm and devoid of emotion. “But you won’t need to worry about the hole I leave behind. I have someone in mind to fill my position. They’ll be a competent handler for the team. She’s a true professional, makes it a point not to get too personal with her team.”

Mac feels like the air has been sucked out of his chest and an aching hurt simmers in his gut. 

He stabs the console panel button viciously to end the audio feed because he can’t bear to hear anymore and he sits in the darkened room, absorbing everything he just heard. 

Jack’s leaving. He’s leaving the team. He’s leaving Mac. He doesn’t want Mac to go with him. Specifically said so. He said it was because Mac’s a pacifist, which hurts because Jack has always made it point to say he understood Mac’s issues on the matter even if Jack himself didn’t live by that mentality. Mac’s moral code had never seemed to be an issue for Jack. There was never any implication that Jack looked down on him for it but it certainly seemed that way now.

Unless it’s not that at all.

He had said he had reasons. Didn’t want any distractions in the field. He had a handler in mind who wouldn’t get personal. A true professional. He thinks Mac is a distraction, that Mac has been getting too personal. Maybe Jack is taking this mission just so he has a good excuse to cut ties with Mac.

Words like a ghost creep into the back of his head: Everyone leaves eventually.

Mac feels the burning threat of tears in his throat and wants nothing more than to rush in and demand to know what the hell Jack is up to, making plans to leave like this. He wants to shake Jack by the shoulders. He wants to scream. He wants answers for everything Jack just broke in their history with cold callous words but he knows that won’t do him any good. When Jack decides on something, nothing will change his mind.

He stands and walks quietly back to the locker room, grabbing his go-bag from the bottom shelf before he walks out to the parking lot. He feels like his feet are made of lead, he’s so tired suddenly. When he manages to slide in behind the wheel of his Jeep he literally collapses into the seat. He puts it in gear and heads out on the highway, doesn’t bother with wondering where he’s heading. He’s just moving right now, trying to put distance between him and the hurt.

Everyone leaves him eventually. So today, Mac leaves first. It won’t solve anything but anything is better than sitting around waiting for it to happen.

He shows up at Freddie’s doorstep before he even realizes that’s where he’s been heading, takes note that the four hour drive passed in a haze he can’t quite remember, as did quite a number of missed calls. Freddie, as usual, is generously accepting of his unannounced arrival and when Mac implies he needs a place to stay for a couple days the older man hands him a set of keys to a cabin at the back half of the reserve, reminds him he’s always welcome.

The two room cabin is isolated in the wilderness training grounds he’s so familiar with and it’s lonely solitude seems a perfect location to work on mending his battered heart.

-

Mac eventually forces himself to return Matty’s calls even if he truly doesn’t want to. He apologizes for disappearing but tells her needs to take some personal time for an unexpected issue, expects to be back the following week. He figures it’s plenty of time for Jack to clear out for his mission. The question in her voice is obvious when she agrees and Mac is beyond grateful when she doesn’t press him for answers.

For the first forty hours in the cabin, he spends his time sleeping, trying his best to avoid reality in favor of the dreamless void of rest. He turns his phone off and preoccupies himself with anything other than thinking.

It doesn’t help. He spends a great deal of time frustratingly going over all the interactions he’s had with Jack over their eight year partnership. He thinks about all the promises Jack’s made him, promises that he’s family, that he cares about Mac. Jack had always watched his back because it was his job but over the years Mac had come to think of it as more than that. They both worked so well together, seemed to know each other inside and out, and he had foolishly allowed himself to believe that he wasn’t the only one feeling that unity.

Jack had told him that Mac was important to him.

Jack had said Mac didn’t have to be alone anymore. 

Jack had promised he’d always be there for Mac.

Mac had, stupidly, naively, believed him.

And now Jack’s leaving, most likely never coming back, either because Mac ruined their relationship by indulging in the baseness of sex or because Jack’s a liar. He doesn’t know which option makes him feel worse. 

His waking thoughts are as vicious as circling sharks and he wants to avoid them as long as possible so he sleeps as much as he can.

Which is why he’s more than a little startled when a banging from the door makes him jump up from the bed. He stares at the door blankly and wonders if he dreamed it and feels his heart drop when Jack's stern voice echoes outside.

“Mac I know you’re there. Open up.”

Mac doesn’t answer. Hopes perhaps if he doesn’t Jack might just leave.

“Mac… I can either wait out here all day being the most annoying asshole on the planet or I can break the door in. Freddie won’t be happy about that.”

Mac takes a breath and prepares for the bandaid to be ripped off. He opens the door and curses himself for the warm relief that spreads through him at the sight of Jack standing there in the low light of the afternoon. The reaction is purely instinctual, a learned response, and he does his best to school his face to be neutral.

“What are you doing here?” Mac asks, aiming for calm but it comes out with an edge of defensiveness.

Jack shrugs, making his backpack bounce on his shoulder.

“That’s funny. Was just gonna ask you the same thing.” Jack tells him with a shallow smile, his eyes brightly defiant.

Mac sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face, and gestures for Jack to come in. “I needed to clear my head.”

“And you couldn’t do that at home?” Jack presses, walking in and tossing his bag down at his feet as he takes up the chair by the wood stove, warming his hands by the little fire grate. “You didn’t think I might be a little worried that you just up and disappeared and no one knew why or where you went.”

Mac feels a cold wash of fury pass through him and it takes a lot of control to keep himself from calling Jack out on the irony of those words, wants to ask him if he was going to get a proper goodbye before Jack cut himself out of their lives.

Instead he shrugs as he stands awkwardly by the door he just closed, crossing his arms and sighs. “A change of scenery seemed appropriate.”

Jack frowns at the wording and sighs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, eyes studying Mac closely.

“So what are you running from this time?” Jack asks bitingly and Mac goes from wanting to play it cool to ready to fight in less than a breath.

“You unbelievable hypocrite.” Mac hisses, furious, paces the length of the floor and throws himself down into the chair in the corner across from him. Jack has the audacity to look surprised by this. “I’m the one running, huh? And you’re not? You, who can’t be bothered with distractions in the field?” Mac quotes at him and at least at that Jack has the good grace to look guilty.

“I… I’m sorry you heard that.” Jack says quietly. “You won’t believe me when I say this but it’s not what it sounds like.”

“Yeah you’re right, I don’t believe you. So now that that’s out of the way, what’re you doing here? Don’t you have a transport to catch?”

Jack sighs, tired and rough, and keeps his eyes on the ground. “I couldn’t leave without knowing you were safe. The transport can wait a little longer.”

Mac keeps himself from yelling obscenities by a hair’s breadth of control. “Well I’m safe and accounted for. I absolve you of your responsibility for my welfare. Have a safe trip.”

Jack looks like Mac slapped him across the face and he turns his dark eyes on him, full of regret. “Mac, please I don’t want to leave it like this… with the way things are between us.”

Mac finds himself warring between a need to apologize and a need to order Jack to leave, especially given that Jack isn’t denying the leaving part. Eventually he settles on a sigh, leans back in the chair with his arms crossed, trying to look at ease even though he wants to crawl out of his skin. “What the hell is there to say? You made yourself very clear in that room. If you feel that way-“

“It wasn’t what it sounded like.” Jack cuts in quickly, exasperated. “I know what it sounded like but I wasn’t talking about you. I was talking about myself.”

Mac doesn’t dare let himself feel hope over those words so he waits for Jack to continue.

“When I said you would be a distraction it had nothing to do with your value as an agent. I know it sounded like I was talking you down, but I only said that to keep that agent from trying to sink his claws into you too. You don’t need to be dragged into this Mac. And I can’t afford to let my focus slip up on this mission. This guy they’re sending me after is dangerous, Mac, one wrong move and it’s over.”

Mac sighs, annoyed. “All the more reason for me to be there with you. It’s like when we first went up against Murdoc, all over again. Jack, come on man, it’s a flimsy excuse. You either trust me to have your back or you don’t!”

“I trust you Mac, I do! It’s me I don’t trust. And I don’t want you anywhere in range of this bastard. You don’t know what he’s capable of! I’m not going off to do this because I don’t think you can handle it, I’m walking away because I’m scared of what’ll happen if I fail to keep you safe.”

Mac shakes his head, helpless against the simmering frustration and sadness. “You’re not the only one who’s scared.”

Jack’s frown deepens at that and for some reason the fact that he doesn’t seem to understand just makes Mac angrier.

“I’ve got plenty of reasons to be scared too Jack.” Mac growls, standing from his chair to pace the floor. “I’m scared of how bad I’ve messed things up between us, that you felt like you could just leave and, that for some reason, you still don’t seem to believe me when I tell you I’d rather watch your back in the line of fire than leave you to face it alone. And I know it’s a mess, this thing between us Jack, I… I’m scared that you make me feel so much that I don’t know how to tell you no... because I don’t want to tell you no. You make me feel so much Jack that I feel like I’m out of control and...”

“And what?” Jack whispers quietly and Mac can’t bring himself to turn around to see the pity in his partner’s eyes, because he’s pretty much outed himself with the obviousness of those words. The anger that carried him away goes dim and all that remains is the ache of incoming rejection, he’s received it enough times to have a sixth sense for when it’s coming again.

“And it doesn’t matter.” He finishes firmly even though his voice quavers in pain, “because it doesn’t change the fact that we’re not feeling the same things. I’ll get over it, I swear. I’ll be a professional. I’ll be your brother. I’ll never not watch your back and I won’t cross that line again but I need... I need to be there because I can’t….” 

Mac tries to calm himself with a deep breath but it only makes him shiver when it rattles unsteadily out of him on the exhale.

Jack crosses the room, his strong hands alight atop Mac’s shoulders and Mac can’t stop the quiet sob that escapes him. He’s not being contained, he’s being steadied and it’s the very idea of losing this sense of security that makes him beg, “Please Jack, don’t leave me. I don’t want to do this without you.”

Jack turns and folds him into the refuge of his arms and Mac doesn’t miss the sound of Jack’s mournful hum as they cling tightly to each other.

Mac doesn’t cry, although keeping himself from doing so is a feat of willpower, and he focuses on the way Jack has secured him in his arms. One arm is an unyielding band of strength across his back and the other one is cradling the back of his head while Jack presses tiny butterfly-light kisses into his hair. He’s safe with Jack like this, and the possibility of not having this level of vulnerability forever is a pain so deep, it would be a free fall into oblivion.

“I’m sorry Angus. I’m sorry.” Jack rasps, voice too choked for more than a whisper. “I never wanted to hurt you like this. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry. I just don’t want to lose you.” Mac whispers.

Jack shudders and he hugs Mac a little harder, a silent promise to never let go, even as he answers.“I know, Mac but I have to go. And I need you to stay.”

Mac pulls back and he glares at him. “We’re better together Jack. Leaving me behind makes no sense.”

“And what will happen if you die because of me? Do you honestly think I could live with myself after that?” Jack challenges, eyes wet with tears that promise to fall. 

Mac sighs, surprised Jack has missed the obvious answer. “No more than I would if you died out there when I know I could have been there to save you. Like it or not, Jack, we’re stronger together. You have to see that.”

Jack sighs, closing his eyes with a look of defeat and pain. “I know. You’re right. I just hate that you’re right about this. I don’t want you to be in danger for my mistakes, Mac, regardless of you bein’ able to handle ‘em. You should never have to pay for my screw ups.”

“You’ve done it for me before. You’ve always had my back. Let me return the favor.”

Jack scoffs under his breath, “I shouldn’t have to ask you to.”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering. Stop being stubborn and let me help you.”

Jack just nods as he leans in to rest his cheek against Mac’s, their arms simultaneously choosing to loop around one another in bone crushing grips. They cling to each other, faces buried in each other’s shoulder, pressing as hard as they can, trying to brand themselves together. They pull apart briefly and Jack takes Mac’s face between his hands like he’s touching something of unspeakable fragility.

The expression in his eyes steals the breath from Mac’s lungs: wonder and reverence and white-hot joy, all present and luminously revealed. Mac can feel it now, that this is what he’s been missing between them. Those moments of openness they’ve always shared; no need to hide because you don’t hide from the only person in the world who has your back, it’s back at long last. They don’t have to put up their walls anymore, what they think and feel and want to say can exist. The dams are all broken, holding back is out of the question.

“Mac, I...” Jack’s voice hitches and he licks his lips before he tries again. “I’ve always wanted to have this and now that we’re here… and I messed it all up by trying to pretend I could ever let this go. I’m so sorry.”

Mac shushes him lightly. “We both messed up, Jack, so let’s not worry about apologies right now. You’re here, that’s all that matters.”

Between one blink and the next, Jack captures Mac’s lips in a feather-soft kiss that blends into something a little more serious as he pushes them backward toward the small bed in the other room. They mold themselves together, stripping down to the sweet relief of skin on skin contact and it’s better than Mac can recall from any other time.

Making love is a term Mac had thought he understood before, but in this moment he realizes he was wrong. He had always thought making love was a term used to explain tenderness between lovers but it’s more than that he realizes, it’s a soul deep connection, unlike any bit of normal sex he’s ever had before. It’s an unspoken oath to be there for sunrises and sunsets, for failures and triumphs and for everything in between. It is sanctuary and solidarity. This is a promise for tomorrow and all the tomorrows to come, made holy and resolute by whispers between their lips.

And it’s only when they make the final race for the edge, standing on the zenith of giving in and falling fast, Jack’s vulnerable shattered, “god, Angus, I love you…” is what allows Mac to let go of every past reservation and rejection. Denying it now would be pointless. 

Wrapped around him and Jack moving within him, Mac answers him by cradling the words against Jack’s parted lips.

“A-always loved you, Jack.”

Falling together never felt so easy and they drift without hesitation into the depths of gentle sleep. They dream the same dreams of peace and sunlight, of a warm steady hand to hold, of adventures still ahead and journeys still to take. When morning brings them back to the waking world, they’re still together, that’s all that matters, the rest will come in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with us on this one guys! We had a BLAST writing it. It was such a wonderful adventure!
> 
> We hope you enjoyed it!


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